


The Business

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Arms Dealer!Reader, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, F/M, Guns, Hate Sex, Hostage Situations, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Reader-Insert, Rival Sex, Rival!Oikawa, Single Dad!Daichi, Smut, Vaginal Sex, but also regular sex is present, there's a lot going on here you guys lksjfdls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: You're an arms dealer constantly out for blood. He's a single dad. You've both got kids going to the same school. It won't get complicated, right?





	The Business

**Author's Note:**

> 4 months and 2 drafts later, I've got a behemoth of a commission to finally share with you guys!
> 
> Thank you so much to [nekosushibot](http://nekosushibot.tumblr.com) for this challenge. This was super fun and very new and kinda scary territory for me, but I'm glad you liked it and you've given me permission to share this with everyone else :D
> 
> More thanks to [kelbivdevoe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe) for beta reading and making sure I didn't leave anything glaring in this fic
> 
> And guys—please read the tags! There's not a lot of fluff going on here...

The snow falls heavily outside as you listen to Shouyou laugh and try to argue some more with Tobio. The dinner table rumbles with vivid stories of their college antics, their practices, and mishaps that leave you and Daichi either laughing or souring your faces. You never got that opportunity. College, at your kids’ age, was some pipe dream that was going to lead to nowhere because you were too cool for school and you couldn’t beat the system. Still, you were able to give your boys the proper treatment. Together with Daichi, they’re the reasons why the house is decorated in team photos and trophies and anything related to volleyball.

It’s been a great fifteen years together.

Shouyou makes some gunshot noises and waves his arms about. “It was crazy! I had no idea how we got wrapped into a party like that.”

Your eyes widen and your grip tightens around your wine glass. “Don’t you ever attend a party like that again. It’s dangerous.”

“Aw, c’mon mom, don’t give me that! Weren’t you some like badass arms dealer back in the day?”

You and Daichi shake your heads and grumble. Daichi’s the first to speak up. “What did we say about bringing up your mother’s past?”

“But that’s the whole reason why—”

“You dumbass!” Tobio exclaims as he punches his arm, then turns to you with a deep frown. “Sorry, mom.”

“It’s fine,” you say, although you can’t really convince yourself that it’s fine at the moment. Daichi takes your hand and smiles apologetically.

“Sorry mom,” Hinata grumbles. He rubs his arm and the table goes silent.

Today is supposed to be a happy day. A day of celebration and family and giving gifts to those you love. While you’ve been able to do this with your family for fifteen years, this one is...bittersweet. More bitter than sweet, you think, but still sweet nonetheless. That’s what you’re putting your focus on right now. Your kids are successful, your husband is by your side, holding your hand and kissing your cheek to bring you back to the present.

“When I leave,” you say, looking up from the table and gripping Daichi’s hand tighter, “I want you both to remember me as I am now. Not from when you both were kids and when I was making all the wrong decisions for you two.”

Shouyou gulps audibly and inhales, “But you didn’t make wrong decisions! You...you met dad! And that’s how I met Tobio!”

Tobio doesn’t say anything until Shouyou elbows him and he grunts. “Yes. I never got to grow up with my biological mother. I’m grateful that you were there for everything she could never do.”

Daichi agrees with the two of them with a nod. “You’re never going to leave us. No matter what happens. Everything you’ve done up to now has been significant. Every decision.”

You force a smile on your face when your sons speak, but Daichi’s words help bring out the sincerity. “Heh. I suppose that’s true.”

It gets quiet after you speak. Shouyou and Tobio do their own sort of silent communication after the moment passes and get up to offer you hugs. Daichi jumps right in too, kissing the top of your head and holding onto everyone tightly.

This is the family you wanted. You were beyond lucky to have lived this life.

When you leave tomorrow morning, back to an estate you haven’t been to in fifteen years, you will remember the faces of the three men who mattered most in your life. It’s a good image to have in your head when you close your eyes and kneel before your maker.

 

“Babe, I’m telling you,” you laugh all too loudly as you hook your arm around Daichi’s, “it would take  _ a lot _ more power to stab someone in the chest with a steak knife.”

Daichi playfully bumps into you, the streets littered with other couples and folks around enjoying such a pretty night. His smile always makes your heart beat double time, and even more so when he leans in to kiss your cheek. “What, are you some kind of knife expert now?”

“As much of an expert as the newbie assassin who used a silencer in the middle of a shootout.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’re thankful for nights like these. For once in your life, you feel...normal. Daichi is the definition of a good guy—a hard worker providing for his talented little boy, who just so happens to be friends with your own little one. More times than none, it hurts your chest to not tell him the truth about you. Every day you’re with him, it gets harder and harder. You look at him and the little boys attempting to play volleyball in your huge yard and then you think about all these years leading up to those moments. And here you are, taking a night off from the kids and enjoying some alone time with him. Is this what you deserve?

Your train of thought halts when you and Daichi stop in the middle of the town square, some performers playing a soft, familiar tune with worn out string instruments. He’s warm when you wrap your arms around him, eyes glimmering in the light that illuminates the walkways around you.

“Something’s up with you,” he says quietly. “I can feel it.”

Daichi is an observant man. You love it and you hate it. Forcing a smile, you rub his back. “Are you some kind of expert on me now?”

“I should be, considering that we’ve been dating for a year now.” He kisses your nose and brings you in closer. “Come on, baby. What’s up?”

There’s a lot riding on your answer. It’s a lot more difficult when you’re in public and you’re keeping an eye out on everyone around you. Two men here, another woman there. A couple with a baby in a stroller. There’s no one on the rooftops from what you can see with your naked eye, but you can’t be sure. There aren’t any messages on your work phone, either.

“I,” you start weakly, “I can’t tell you. Not here.”

His face softens more and you know for sure that you don’t deserve him. You were expecting him to get mad over the fact that you’re still being a little bit frigid. Work talk and family talk are things you’re not very partial to, even though you’ve created such an elite backstory nobody, including Daichi, will ever question it. He’s always been so patient with you. 

“Can you tell me in the car?”

After a few moments of hesitation, you nod. That’s your decision. It’s been a year of hiding and you can’t hold it any longer. For the sake of his kid and your own, you need to come clean. That smile you fell in love with forms again and you give him a quick kiss. Maybe it won’t be  _ that _ bad if you tell him, if you don’t think about the major consequences that can and will follow.

You hold his hand when you head out to the parking lot. The conversation is quieter and with less excessiveness as you get closer. Daichi holds his keys in his other hand as you go on about all the other problems with the movie you two just watched.

“Those injuries should have killed him, but of course he had to overcome profuse bleeding to save the one he loves.”

“Would you literally let your heart bleed out to save my life?”

You snort. Daichi pushes a button on his keys to unlock the car. “Babe, I would—”

The conversation is cut off when Daichi’s car bursts into flames, windows blowing out and causing the cars around it to rumble from the explosion. You scream and jump back, throwing your arms around Daichi and pulling him away from the wreck. The two of you are lucky you weren’t any closer; a few more steps and you both would have ruptured your eardrums. Daichi gawks, wide-eyed and mouth dropped open while you try to get your words together.

“What the  _ fuck _ !” he shouts, pulling away from you and throwing his hands around his head. “What the fuck just happened to my car?!”

Your phone rings as he alternates between looking at you and the assassination attempt. Your hand trembles when you answer to a voice crying out your name and coughing profusely.

“It’s...Oikawa,” he strains. “I already— _ urgh _ —I called Wakatoshi—”

“Tsukishima?” you cry. “Tsukishima, the kids!”

“Fuck,” he coughs over the phone. You can hear Daichi asking you what’s going on in the background but all that’s on your mind now are the two boys you and Daichi left behind with a sitter. A sitter _ you _ hired.

“Tsukishima, answer me,” you try to say as calmly as possible. Screaming at him won’t do any good right now, especially when he sounds hurt and you’re ready to cry over the worst case scenario. “Please.”

There’s no answer, save for the clatter of the phone to the floor and nothing else. You shove your phone in your purse and grab Daichi’s hands, yanking him so that you get his full, undivided attention. You should have known this day would come. You’ve been too stupid and in love to see all the problems that would come with dating a civilian. Confusion and fear color his face and you wish you could make this all go away with a kiss but you can’t. This is only the beginning.

“We have to go. Our kids’ lives are at stake.”

 

No matter what you do, he won’t stop crying. No amount singing or rocking or patting him on the back will calm him down. He doesn’t need a diaper change, thank god, so he’s either sick or...well, hungry.

And that’s the fucked up part of it all. Even for you, it’s hard to find food when you have no money or a home. Growing up on the streets and under the care of some heartless workers takes its toll on you. School wasn’t any better. You were the delinquent. The one who smoked cigarettes behind the building and ditched for most of the year. The one who sat in the back of the class and didn’t give a shit about history or English but you had to be there because you were practically forced to go to school. Nobody believed in you. You don’t believe in you.

Now here you are, trying to believe that you’ll find some food for this baby who will starve to death. No way are you going to give him to the same system who raised a rat like you. Maybe you can find some rich family and leave him on their doorstep. No, or those really sweet couples who can’t conceive but they want to adopt. Anywhere is better than these streets or some government-owned joke. Who the fuck would leave a baby here?

You make your way down the alleyway after trying a few more times to calm him down. No luck. However, you know that this is the backway for a few restaurants and a convenience store. Maybe their dumpsters will have something good. It’s not like you can show up to any of these places at the front door. Not with the dust in your duct tape wallet and the dirty clothes in your ripped backpack. And your track record of stealing food and cigarettes. Finding food here will be better than listening to this baby cry for what will probably be an eternity.

A little bit of digging and nearly cutting yourself with razor blades and nasty needles, you find a hit. Someone might be watching over you today because you find a takeout box with a little bit of uneaten rice at the top of an open garbage bag. 

As much as you want to scarf the bits and pieces down, you’re basically obligated to feed this baby. He’s got a head full of bright orange hair and big eyes that are red and puffy from being out for however long in the wake of the summer sun. You lean on the dumpster and take a tiny handful, letting him chew on the grains slowly as he finally, finally quiets down some in your arm. He can’t be more than a few months old, which means he’s been taken care of until something fucked up happened. Upon further observation, you spot a few fingerprints on his onesie. They’re a deep red and you shudder. Whatever just happened in the short time you’ve been around this block isn’t good.

By the time the box is completely empty, the baby is fast asleep in your arms. You breathe deeply, tapping the back of your head against the metal and wondering how the fuck everything went wrong. How the fuck everything will go wrong for this baby the longer you hang onto him.

The door on the opposite side of the dumpster swings open and you instinctively bring the baby to your chest, holding onto its head as you hold your breath in case someone tries to kick you away. Instead, you hear a someone being tossed to the ground and grunting. Footsteps follow, along with the click of...guns. You swallow hard.

“It should not be this difficult for you to answer my question,” a very deep voice says. “Where is the money?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” the man on the ground says. You know that voice. It’s the man from the convenience store who caught you stealing last month. It was the only time he did, because the rest of the time he was reading dirty magazines at the counter and snorting unusually loud or scratching his arm. Since catching you in the act, he wields a knife and some choice words to keep you away. What a pig.

“We should just kill him, Wakatoshi,” another voice says. He sounds a lot more soothing and strangely paternal. “If he refuses to give us an answer, he’s no good to us as a dealer.”

“You make a good point, but that doesn’t solve our problem,” the deep voice replies, who apparently goes by Wakatoshi.

You don’t want that gun to go off. You don’t want this baby to start crying and have to deal with two men who are presumably armed and dangerous. There’s a dead end ahead and you can’t exactly climb up these walls without a ladder anywhere in sight. Laying low is the best, but you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“Perhaps we’re asking the question incorrectly,” the soothing voice says. 

You hear a rough thump, to which the store clerk responds with a louder groan. The baby starts to fuss and you keep him closer to your chest.

“Did you hear something?”

“Yes,” Wakatoshi says and immediately you hear footsteps in your direction.

_ Fuck _ . This is the end of the line for you. It’s been twenty years of hell, so maybe this is a good thing. You’ll be put out of your misery and taken to some otherworldly place with food and shelter and maybe some people who’ll call you pretty. The baby can come with you, if these men are as fucked up as they seem.

Your heart stops when you feel the gun being pointed at you. You turn your back and away and shut your eyes, shielding the baby who’s starting to fuss even more.

“Stand up,” Wakatoshi commands.

Your legs feel so weighted when you do so, and when you turn around you’re met with an insanely huge man wearing a dark, pressed suit and a hard scowl. There’s no doubt in your head that he’s in some kind of gang or family who probably kills people for fun. Your eyes flick briefly to the other man, shorter but still threatening when he’s got his eyes and his gun locked on the target. That target notices you, too.

“Hey! You’re that bitch who tried to steal food from the store!” he says, then points at you. “What, you got yourself knocked up?”

You swallow hard as the other man kicks him again. Wakatoshi doesn’t ease up.

“I found this baby here,” you say, your voice trembling. “There’s blood on his clothes. I don’t know what’s going on. I have nothing to do with whatever this is.”

Wakatoshi stares at you, as if he’s searching for the truth in your eyes, glassy and ready to be filled with tears. You thought fear was going to come at night while you sleep and take you. No, it’s right here in broad daylight, in the form of some six-foot gang member with a shiny gun pointing at your head.

“Wakatoshi,” the other man says with all the calmness of the ocean (you think, since you’ve never been), “she might know a thing or two about our friend here. I can’t look at you now, dear, but did you steal money along with food?”

You know that question is supposed to be calm but every chance of being shot is still right on the table if your answer isn’t to their liking. “Never. He was always at the register reading porn.”

“Does he show any signs of drug use?” Wakatoshi asks.

“Why the fuck are you asking—” another hard kick.

“If you don’t stay quiet, I’ll use that knife I gave you in very creative ways.”

“Answer the question,” Wakatoshi booms.

“I—” your thoughts flood in, trying to come up with an answer and everything starts to make sense. “Yes. Yeah, he’s a drug user.”

“How do you know?” Wakatoshi continues.

“He snorts a lot,” you say. “Really loudly. Scratches his arm sometimes, too. There’s a bunch of needles in the dump right here.”

“Have you seen other drug users around here?”

Now that you think about it, they’re part of the reason why it’s been rougher these past few months. All the people acting weird and threatening you when you do nothing but walk by them. The bloody noses and the weirdos who are claiming to see things. You nod. “A lot more than normal. Especially at night. People do it in alleys like these all the time.”

“Why start a drug trade here?” the other man asks Wakatoshi.

“To send a message,” Wakatoshi answers, then immediately runs and points his gun back at the man on the floor. “You’ve been bartering our weapons for cocaine. Who’s your dealer?”

“That’s not true!” the convenience store man denies. “Nobody is—”

A gunshot to the arm. You jump and wrap your arm around the baby, completely in tears again.

“Who’s your dealer?” the other man asks with the same amount of fury.

“Seijoh! They’re from Seijoh!” he cries. “I don’t know anything else, I swear. I swear on my life. Fuck, that hurts! Please, please don’t—”

Another gunshot, and then all that’s left to be heard is the sounds of the baby in your arms. You do your best to shush him, rocking slowly and patting his back. You’re so focused on calming him down and not trying to throw up that you don’t notice the other man approach you. He offers up his hands and smiles. You don’t trust that look.

“Thank you for your help,” he says. “Here. I’m good with kids.”

While you spot Wakatoshi searching the (dead, bleeding) man and finding a small bag of white powder in his pants, you reluctantly follow the orders given and hand over the baby. He’s doing the exact same things you were doing two seconds ago, but this time it actually works. He clicks his teeth and shakes his head.

“Shame about the Hinata couple. They were such nice dealers. Do you think the Seijoh boys were responsible for their robbery?”

“It’s possible, now that we know that they want to steal our supplies.”

“Mm.” He rocks the baby in his arms, running his palm over that bright orange hair. “Funny how your parents named you Shouyou. Before they died, they decided to leave you out here in daylight. It could have been a peaceful way for you to die, too.”

This guy might be even scarier than Wakatoshi. Either way, you need to get out of here now before you get gunned down, too. A bit hard to do so when they’re in your way. Not to mention all the blood that’s pooling beneath your feet. The man looks up from Shouyou once he falls back asleep. “Ah. Forgive me for being rude. My name is Sugawara Koushi.”

You don’t know why, but you tell him your name, too. “Um. Are you...going to kill me?”

Wakatoshi stands and steps next to Sugawara. He looks you up and down, doing that thing where it looks like he’s judging you once again. Thought he might have the presence of an older mafia boss with a hundred kills under his belt, he only looks about your age. “If you decide to work with us, you won’t die here.”

Sugawara’s eyes widen. “That’s a good idea. We’ve been looking for some new recruits. You’re very attentive and compliant with orders.”

You say nothing. “Look, I—”

Ushijima holds out his gun again. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. You will work for my family. You will police these streets for drug dealers and members of Seijoh armed with our weapons. If we deem you smart and trustworthy enough, you may move up in the family. Refusal of this offer will result in your death.”

“You will also be provided food and all the amenities of a home,” Sugawara says. “And money!”

“Money?” you repeat.

Sugawara nods and smiles again. “You can buy yourself some new clothes and maybe feed this little one, too. I’m a firm believer in finders keepers. He can join our family too. Right, Wakatoshi?”

He glances at Shouyou indifferently, then back at you. “Come to Shiratorizawa.”

That isn’t much of a suggestion as it is a command. With your stomach tied in every single knot possible and your heart ready to explode, you nod, following the men and to a shiny black car en route to your new life.

You drive down the freeway well over the speed limit. Daichi breathes heavily, holding onto any surface possible that his knuckles are white and he’s dripping sweat. Two other men sit behind you, preparing their weapons as they communicate with other members heading to the suspected location of Oikawa and the kids.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daichi asks after sitting so long in silence.

“Were you expecting me to tell you on our first date or when I first met you?” you say sharply as you swerve between cars and trucks. You don’t look at him.

“You lied to me!”

“What other choice did I have?” you say, louder this time. “Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly into women who kill and deal weapons for a living.”

“I’m not exactly into women who put my son in danger, either.”

“ _ My _ son is in danger, too!” you shout. You squeeze the steering wheel and floor the gas pedal, ready to stomp a hole into the car. “I didn’t ask for him to be brought up like this. We didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice?” he repeats incredulously.

“I was going to die if I didn’t join them! And I’m sure Shouyou would have been killed, too.” You make a sudden turn to the exit, shifting everyone in their seats. Your voice drops and you slow down a bit, making all the turns necessary while the boys behind you cock the last of their weapons. “With all the shit happening now, maybe I should have let them shoot me. Would’ve saved you from more pain and suffering.”

Silence again. You arrive about two hundred meters away from the warehouse, lit up and seemingly alive with work and preparation for an export. There’s no time to think or to take a breather or to call any other men for backup. Now that you stopped the car and Daichi stopped talking to you, you realize now that you’re more than likely to die anyway because of all of this. Because of your relationship and your desire to keep Daichi and his son out of the loop. You’ve been keeping Shouyou out of the loop, too, as much as possible.

_ This _ is the ending you deserve, after everything you put them through.

“Asahi. Take Daichi to the control booth by the storage units and make sure he’s safe at all times. I’m taking Yuu with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daichi says nothing. No bold statement to come with you, no arguments that will want you to bring more men. You can only imagine the amount of fear coursing through him, taking over all the adrenaline that wants to push and fight with you. There’s no choice for him now, either. Each second is important, and you’ll spend the last thirty of them defending your position one last time.

“Both of you. Step out of the car. I need to talk to Daichi alone.”

Asahi steps in. “But there’s no—”

“That’s an order.”

He says no more and they do as you say. They stand outside the car, scanning the area and taking any tips from the others who have arrived before you all via phone call. As they do so, you open up the console between you and Daichi and pull out a Beretta, perfect for combat and self-defense. You hope that Daichi will use it for the latter. You can’t tell by the unreadable expression he’s giving you.

You put the gun on top of the console and look at Daichi, eyes softening for the very short amount of time you have with him. “I’m going to get them back. I promise. And when I do, you and Tobio are free to stay as far away from me as possible. I’m sorry.”

Sucking in a breath, you step out of the car and immediately call for Yuu. You don’t look back when Asahi motions for Daichi to come out with him.

 

You fire your sixteen rounds, keeping your eyes focused on the target ahead as you keep your feet planted on the ground, shoulders relaxed and leaning forward at the tiniest angle. There’s a lot more pressure added when several people are standing behind you, watching every move and every shot you make. It’s been six months of this. Six months of shooting and physical combat and keeping Shouyou healthy and happy. He’s probably gurgling away with one of the nannies and proud that his new mommy is finally able to use a gun rather than watch people who are using guns. Not that he really knows what’s going on in this family. You’re not sure whether you should tell him when he’s older or not. After all, his biological parents  _ did _ work for them.

The paper flies forward when you’re finished and you take a look at your results. Half of them are headshots while the other half are to the chest, right in or around the little red target. You could have easily gotten those stray shots in and you hope that Wakatoshi’s father won’t be  _ too _ disappointed. If it’s one thing you learned as a member of Shiratorizawa, it’s that every member strives for force and accuracy.

Wakatoshi and his father step forward to look on with you. They’re silent, as they usually are, possibly scrutinizing any shot that might not kill a real target. By the way they’re staring, you have no idea if they approve or not.

“Impressive,” his father says. “I expect nothing less from someone who had been training for six months on end.”

“You present both precision and accuracy in your shots,” Wakatoshi continues. “Combined with your knowledge of the weapons we distribute to our clients, you have the potential to run our warehouse by the port.”

“Thank you.” For the first time, you feel like your heart swells with pride. You never thought this would be your calling—then again, a desk job was never something you could have achieved in the first place. There’s a tiny glimmer of hope that stirs in your heart. It was only a matter of time before things turned around for you.

 

“Three men are dead,” Yuu tells you as he keeps his earpiece in place. “Oikawa and his boys are holding everyone else hostage inside.”

“And the kids?”

“Locked in the interrogation room with Ryu.”

You press your back against the storage unit, sighing deeply. He  _ wants _ you to walk right in. He’s not going to kill everybody inside unless he has to. It’s not bloodshed he wants—it’s the warehouse and your business. That’s what Seijoh’s been after for the last five years, and those last five years have been fruitless. Things are changing now, though. There are a lot more members. They’re getting stronger and gaining presence. Of course you wanted to have a boyfriend and take care of a kid in the midst of this.

Yuu nudges your arm. “Asahi said that nobody’s guarding any of the entrances.”

“Oikawa’s not going to kill me when we enter,” you say. “Not without negotiating.”

“What are you going to do? You can’t just give up the entire warehouse for those kids.”

“If that’s what it takes, he can fucking have it.”

“But—”

“I’m done, Yuu,” you say, turning to him solemnly. “Wakatoshi can hunt me down and shoot me all he wants because of this, but at least I’ll know those kids will be safe.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

You bite your lip. “I know. But it’s worth a shot. Let’s go.”

Yuu says nothing more as he follows your lead, gun clutched in your hand as you head for the front doors in quick strides.

 

After nearly four years of henchmen work, combat training, and shooting bullet after bullet, you can sit at the top with Wakatoshi and a few other fellow members you’ve grown to call your family. Hard work really does pay off, and you find out that you’re a lot smarter than you think. These men actually  _ believed _ in your abilities and have whipped you well into shape. Turns out sitting in a classroom and getting grade cards weren’t really your styles of learning. You’re thankful that powerful people made room for you in their family. 

But power comes with enemies, ones who follow you for years and years until you make a seat for yourself at the top.

So on a late spring evening, when two of your henchmen bring in a man trying to infiltrate your warehouse full of goodies, you’re not surprised.

While one ties the man down inside a small, empty room of the warehouse, the other hands you a phone and swipes through multiple pictures of the warehouse taken over the last two weeks and a text message from three days ago with its location. There isn’t a name attached to the number the message went to, but it’s a start.

“We caught him sneaking around the storage units while we were on patrol,” he explains. “Thought you’d like to take care of him yourself.”

“Thank you, Tanaka,” you say, tucking the phone in your pocket for now and walking into the makeshift interrogation room, locking the door behind you. Tanaka and his partner, Nishinoya, guard the door while you step forward and remove the bag off the man’s head. He’s stone-faced and ready for whatever stunt you’re going to pull.

The first is a gunshot to the left shoulder. Not so stone-faced, now. The man screams, balling up his fists behind the chair and pulling at the zip tie around his wrists. You watch him squirm for a bit, unmoved by his anguish and the blood that starts to run down his cheap suit. This isn’t your first time in this room with someone who wants to fuck with your work.

“Was he wired?” you ask the men behind you.

“He was clean when I searched him,” Nishinoya answers. “The phone’s recording device isn’t on, either.”

“Good to know,” you say, still staring at the infiltrator. Directing your words at him now, you ask, “Do you want to tell me who you work for?”

He spits in your direction, eyes full of fury and determination. “Fuck you, cunt.”

Another gunshot, this time to his right knee. You clutch your gun in your hand and sigh while he gets out his pain and suffering again, noticing how he grits his teeth and sweats thick beads that drip down his forehead. Once his cries are reduced to whimpers and low growls, you pull out the phone and tap through the photos again, this time swiping past the photos of your warehouse. There are unsavory pictures of sex workers and other men presumably in the same organization, many of which don’t sit right with you at all. 

“You know,” you say as you continue swiping, “if you’re going to insult me, you should at least do it without disrespecting women. They’ve been carrying humankind for millions of years, only to be reduced to sources of vulgarity and objectivity. A shame, really.”

You stop at a photo of the man in front of you along with another man whose face you recognize right away. After you put your gun back in your holster, you grab your hostage by the hair and lift his head up so you can show him the photo. The two look awfully happy together with the cigars and glasses of whiskey in front of them.

“Who’s that next to you?” you ask calmly.

No answer. You tug his hair. “I’ll tell you who that is. That’s Iwaizumi Hajime, second in command next to Oikawa Tooru. Together, they run Seijoh, their organization named after the high school they went to. Known for distributing coke, but they’ve recently been trying to get themselves in the illegal weapons business to expand their empire and to fuck with us. They could never get any overseas buyers for their weapons, though. Do you know why that is?”

You can feel the man’s breath struggling to get through his teeth, the sweat in his hair grossly soaking your fingers and the blood from his knee beginning to drip onto the tarp under the chair. He still isn’t responding, so you let him go and wipe your hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“It’s because they’re not...savvy enough,” you answer, stepping around so that you face him again and you put the phone back in your pocket. “Those two are charming, but you can’t sway the Americans with all these products. Quality over quantity. Clearly, their coke is a hit, but guns? Cheap. Rusty. Poorly-made. And that’s why  _ my _ family is at the top of this business.”

The man attempts to spit at you again. You’re still unmoved. Turning to your henchmen, who move promptly when you step forward, you reach for the door to unlock and yank it open. It’s getting stuffy, anyway.

“Play around with him and see if he talks,” you order. “Just be sure to cut his tongue when you’re done.”

“Yes ma’am,” they say, excitement in their voices. You hear Tanaka crack his knuckles and Nishinoya laugh before you shut the door. 

While you wait, you continue searching the phone. The man has clearly been on the hunt for your warehouse, based on the dropped pins on the maps app and the addresses sent to that same number. Besides that one, there are several other contacts, all unnamed. Nothing else interesting needs to be noted, other than an app to play solitaire. You’re about to open it up for a quick game, but you’re interrupted when the door flings open and you pop your head up to meet Tanaka’s grin and Nishinoya holding up a severed tongue.

“Got it,” Nishinoya says.

“And a hand!” Tanaka adds, holding up the bloody appendage by its fingers. “Wasn’t easy, but he was bein’ annoying.”

“Did you get anything else out of him?” you ask.

“Seijoh’s been watching this warehouse for the last two weeks,” Tanaka says, then motions the hand over to the room, where the man is slumped in the chair, unconscious. “He was in charge of breaking in and stealing our list of buyers who come here.”

“Did he come with anybody else?”

Nishinoya shakes his head. “He said he came alone. And I got a text from Asahi that said there wasn’t anyone else around the warehouse.”

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking about what your next moves should be. Seijoh has been a pain in your side since you learned of their existence when you had a baby in your arms and no food in your stomach. However, all of their attempts to make a dent in your family’s business has been thwarted easily. The phone, however, changes things a bit, and the information the group knows now might be more helpful than you expect. It’s something to talk about in a family meeting coming up soon. With a sigh, you walk back into the room, making sure you aren’t going to slip on all the blood that’s pooled to most of the tarp.

“You two are so messy,” you tell your boys casually as you hold up the phone and take a few flattering pictures of the man. “Make sure this room is spotless once you’re done disposing of him.”

“Yes ma’am!” Tanaka says, holding the hand up to his own forehead with a grin. 

You try to frown but you can’t help looking so amused. “And clean yourselves up, too. You don’t know where that hand has been.” 

The two get to work and you step out of the room one last time, heading over to the office not too far away from where the boys are. There’s a calendar on the corner of your desk, a date circled one month from now to remind you of Shouyou’s sports festival. Upon taking a seat, you send the pictures of the man to the number that got the message of the warehouse’s address. Attached to them is a message with several heart emojis and a knife emoji.

Oikawa will understand.

 

The nice thing about the control booth overseeing the imports and exports of your goods is that the glass that surrounds it is bulletproof. Asahi doesn’t have to worry about shots coming from any side of the box. He takes his seat and glances occasionally around him; it’s eerily quiet, but judging by the setup and the communication among everyone involved, nobody is going to touch him and Daichi here.

“What if they try to blow us up here?” Daichi asks as he shifts on the floor and tips his head back against the wall. The gun sits between his bent knees, intimidating and dangerous. Kind of like you.

“They’re not going to,” Asahi replies. “Oikawa is after  _ her _ . Nobody else.”

“He blew up my car. I’m pretty sure this guy is after me, too.”

“He was just trying to scare you,” he says, turning in his seat and facing Daichi on the floor. That look of distress is all too familiar. “Oikawa has a way of...getting people’s attention.”

“By trying to kill us?”

Asahi stiffens, then takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

Daichi shakes his head and looks away, looking like he’s trying to find some sort of happy place in this box but failing every time. Asahi was never the best at comforting others. This job doesn’t exactly lend that skill to them. You never talked very much about Daichi or the kids for the sake of it. Asahi can maybe find some common ground with him while you and Nishinoya storm the warehouse.

“She loves you, you know.”

Daichi says nothing. Asahi could just stop talking now and just wait for another message from you or Nishinoya, but something drives him to keep speaking. “One time we caught a dealer from Seijoh trying to take one of our clients. She didn’t even have to pull out her gun to convince the client to stay with us. Yuu shot the other dealer afterward.”

Not a blatant reaction, but he can see Daichi stir a bit. He goes on. “She once told off three of our men when she caught them slacking on orders. Nearly cut someone’s tongue when they said she’s gone soft.”

“She’s a go-getter,” Daichi mumbles. “A few weeks ago when we were on a date, I had to stop her from punching a guy who complimented her, uh...body.”

“I think she dumped that same man in the ocean last week,” Asahi comments thoughtfully. “He tried to steal from another warehouse.”

He shudders. “How many people has she.... _ killed _ like that?”

“Not many. That’s why she has me and Nishinoya and a whole bunch of other people.”

“But don’t you feel bad at all about what you do? Doesn’t _ she _ feel bad about what she’s putting Shouyou through?”

Asahi takes in a breath and closes his eyes. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, so this all feels new and nerve-wracking to him, but he remains loyal and proud to be a part of your group. “No. Many of the people we deal with are scum and don’t deserve our business. Nobody knows that more than her, but it’s like what she said in the car. She had nowhere else to go. But she’s good at what she does, and she’s done everything she can to protect Shouyou, you, and your son.  _ And _ the people who work for her. I look up to her in that respect.”

Daichi looks on at Asahi, like he’s letting his words sink in and settle in his head for interpretation. Asahi hears some static in his earpiece, and then his name.

“It’s me. Go ahead.”

“I need you to take Mr. Handsome inside the warehouse,” a smooth, intimidating voice says in his ear. It’s neither Nishinoya’s voice or your voice and Asahi swallows. “Make sure he’s all cleaned up and ready for his girl.”

Asahi stands and grabs his gun. “Yes...sir.”

“Thank you,” he sings, and the static cuts off.

“Who was that?” Daichi asks.

He looks down at him and takes another breath to keep calm for the two of them. “Oikawa. He wants to see you.”

 

Yuu drops his gun and removes all other weapons he has on his body. You do the same. All of Oikawa’s men, including Oikawa himself, watch you remove gun after gun, letting every piece drop to the floor. Nobody else who works for you is around, save for the three dead workers in the background with the blood spreading about their bodies. At least Tanaka is safely locked away with your children. Safe as it can get, you suppose.

“Is that everything?” Oikawa asks.

You nod as Yuu gets taken off to the side and zip-tied. Oikawa steps forward and places his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to eye level and forcing you to look at him.

When it comes to you and Oikawa, the best way to describe it would be in one word: complicated. Shiratorizawa has always been coming after him and Seijoh, but in the encounters you’ve had with him, you’ve found yourself dealing with both hatred and attraction. You’d rather he not fuck your business up, but fucking you up is another story. It’s terrible. Being with Daichi has eased that for the last year, though seeing Oikawa for the first time in a while, sporting a well-fitted suit and a sly smile, sends a rush of uncomfortable memories.

“Didn’t Ushiwaka teach you that it was wrong to lie?” 

Your heart pounds as Oikawa’s other hand slips around your hip, the space between you two minimal as he reaches up to pluck the knife that’s wedged between your skin and your bra. You keep your composure, standing tall and defiant as he gets his hand out of you and holds the knife up to your face.

“Oh darling,” he croons, then sharpens his voice and speaks with a bite, “don’t you dare try anything else, or I will kill everyone you love in front of you.”

An excessive amount of fear flows through your body, even as you’re ordered to take a seat in the middle of the warehouse, with Oikawa doing the same. It’s as if you two are going to conduct a business meeting right now, all eyes on you. Before he commences, though, one of his henchmen takes Yuu’s earpiece to hand over.

“I need you to take Mr. Handsome inside the warehouse. Make sure he’s all cleaned up and ready for his girl.”

You swallow as Oikawa tosses the earpiece away, focusing on you once more. He sits back in his chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his knee. For the sake of the kid and for Daichi, you channel all the rage and bravery you can to face him. Forget the good looks and that stupid charm that works so well. He’s an enemy to you and your family.

“It’s been awhile, hmm?”

“Yes it has,” you answer. “Last time we saw each other, your hair looked better.”

“Geh!” Oikawa exclaims, flipping his chocolate brown locks and laughing. “Please, darling, don’t be rude. I was going to compliment you on how you look more fit. Working out more, I see?”

Not even Daichi had noticed your weight change in the last six months, but you’ve been blaming all the work he’s been doing and how tired he is coming home and then making time for Tobio and you. The acknowledgment from Oikawa is admittedly nice, but you can’t bring yourself to thank him for it. “Yes. I wanted to be more prepared for when you try and take over my warehouse again.”

Oikawa hums thoughtfully. “You know I’m not so much into fighting. But so many other people are.”

You laugh bitterly. “Is Iwaizumi still recovering?”

“Iwa-chan is…” he thinks for a moment, tipping his head back and forth nonchalantly like a child, “doing better, for lack of a better word. And is Mr. Refreshing treating his new scar well?”

“He is. Every time I talk to him, he has a new plan to rip you and Iwaizumi apart.”

“Huh, I thought that was Ushiwaka’s job.”

“They share the responsibility.”

A tense silence follows. You would love to demand where you kids are, why he suddenly planned to attack you and your members now, why the hell he wants to have Daichi over with you. Speaking of whom, the front doors open and you hear two pairs of footsteps approach the middle of the floor. You don’t turn around, but you hear more shuffling, assuming to disarm both of them and to bring Asahi aside with Yuu. Someone else pulls a chair up next to you and orders Daichi to take a seat. You don’t look at him.

Oikawa uncrosses his legs and leans forward, smiling wide and tapping his knees with delight. “Look at you lovebirds! Such a beautiful couple.”

“Where is my s—”

Daichi’s words are cut off when one of Oikawa’s men points a gun to the side of his head. “Shut up.”

“Easy now, Mattsun,” Oikawa says. He scoots his chair forward, the legs dragging on the concrete and the sound resonating throughout the warehouse. “He’s a concerned father. Just like how Lady Shiratorizawa is of her little shrimp.”

You bite your lip and your fingers twitch. In one quick gaze, you can see Daichi straining not to say anything, just like you. At least you two are in the same boat.

“Tooru,” you say, and you know it’s going to hurt Daichi more because you’re addressing him by his first name, “I’m done fighting you. If you want the warehouse this badly, you can have it.”

He perks up, turning his attention to you instead of scrutinizing Daichi’s appearance like he’s trying to figure out why you’re dating a guy like him. “You’re just going to give up that easily? For a few kids? What about the people who work for you?”

“Shiratorizawa has control of this city,” you reply immediately. “We could shut down half of our operations and they’d still find a job somewhere else.”

“Oh, you’re so smart!” Oikawa looks at Daichi. “She’s so smart. I can see why you fell in love with her.”

He pauses, though, and sits back, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms across his chest. “But I’m not after the warehouse anymore, darling. Makki! Take her goons to the room with everyone else. I want to be alone with these two. Come along now.”

Oikawa stands and Mattsun nudges Daichi to stand. You do the same without being prompted and follow him to your office. Mattsun slams the door shut and you can see him keeping watch through the window. It doesn’t make any sense. All those years of Seijoh coming after you, the warehouse, Shiratorizawa’s business. What the hell is he up to?

“Now that we’re somewhere more private,” Oikawa says, taking a seat in your chair, “I’d like to talk about something with you two. Please, sit.”

You follow his order and nudge Daichi to do the same. It feels like a counseling session by the way this is set up, in a slightly dimmed warehouse office with plenty of space for everyone to talk. And fight.

“What is this abou—”

“Ah ah ah,” Oikawa scolds, wagging his index finger at your as he leans forward on your desk. “Let me speak. I’ve been watching you for a while. Not so much Mr. Handsome here, but you in particular. And as time went on, dear, I realized something. I couldn’t care less about dealing weapons. Seijoh is already making a sufficient amount of money dealing drugs alone. Everything else is a bonus. You know what I realized? It’s not the money I want. Darling...it’s you.”

You wish it were the weapons. Your stomach drops and you swallow hard, all feeling in your body lost as Oikawa continues speaking.

“You and me, dear. Right here in this office, right now. While Mr. Handsome watches.”

 

It’s hard being quiet when you haven’t felt this good in ages.

With two little boys fast asleep in the bedroom down the hall, you unfortunately can’t tell Daichi how good he feels inside you, how much you want to come on his cock, how you want to ride him forever in the position you’re in. Your moans are hushed, so soft that only Daichi can hear you when he isn’t trying to groan your name. He holds your hips loosely so you can bounce all you like on top of him, then tightens up once you shift in the perfect position for him to hit that sweet spot.

“Fuck, babe,” he murmurs up at you while you tilt your head back and bite your lip. “Are you close?”

You respond with a faint “mhm,” gripping his wrist with one hand and playing with your clit with the other. The bed creaks when his feet press against the mattress and he snaps his hips up in a hard, quick rhythm that makes you want to cry out his name. It doesn’t take very long before you tense up and drop down to moan into his neck, bringing your knees inward towards his sides as you come, legs shaking and body rolling against him to ride out the pleasure.

Your orgasm doesn’t stop him from pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping against your own until he growls into your ear, sheathing himself fully inside you as he comes, as well. His voice is so deep and raspy in this state, your name so hot that you can go another round if it weren’t for the fact that you two have to make breakfast for your kids tomorrow morning.

While you’d love to stay on top of him like this, you eventually slide yourself off his cock and fall to his side. Daichi discards the condom and cleans up any residual mess between you two before cuddling you close.

“You always look like you’re on top of the world when you ride me,” Daichi says softly as he brushes the hair out of your face.

“Is that your new name for your dick?” you giggle. “‘The world?’”

Daichi laughs with you and pulls the covers over your bodies. “You like being in control.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head, then hesitates before speaking softer, “Between you and me, you can tie me to this bed and ride me until I pass out.”

Your eyes widen some, heat returning between your legs as Daichi shares his little secret with you. The two of you have been very much enjoying your time together. Shouyou and Tobio approve of your relationship, too, though they’re much more concerned about Halloween costumes and when they’re going to play volleyball next. However, you have yet to explore every bit and piece of Daichi. This piece in particular is something you’re very much into.

“I’m going to have to take you up on that offer at some point,” you tell him before kissing him slowly. “I’ll pay Tsukishima double to watch the kids that night.”

“You mean you don’t want to try it out now?”

You laugh again, pinching his nose before tucking your head into his neck and settling in for the night. “You know damn well you’re going to fall right asleep if I try to sit on your face right now.”

“Then I’ll die a happy man.”

This time, you smack him as you laugh.

 

This is wrong.

Or, in your head, it  _ should _ be wrong.

But being bent over your own desk while Oikawa fucks you from behind and Daichi watches you with  _ actual interest _ only makes you hotter, your skin burning beneath your clothes bunched up above your tits and around your calves. As you grip the edge of your desk, Oikawa has an incredibly firm hold on your hips, his own slapping away against your ass as your tits bounce and your pussy tightens around his drenched cock. He’s no competitor against Daichi, but  _ fuck _ is he relentless and unforgiving and you  _ want to hate it so much but it feels too good. _

“Do you like watching your girlfriend get fucked, Handsome?” Oikawa asks between labored breaths. “She’s so pretty like this, isn’t she?”

Just when you think Daichi doesn’t answer, he turns to spread his legs wider, showing off the erection in his pants as he attempts to keep himself from biting his lip.  _ Again _ .

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, looking straight at you with half-lidded eyes.

It’s as if he’s forgotten that they’re doing this for the sake of the kids. Your immediate opposition and outrage to such an outlandish request unexpectedly cut short when Daichi agreed to it if you consented and if this was the only way. No negotiations, no bargaining. Daichi stood tall and stepped up to Oikawa, prepared to fight him to the death so he can get his son back. He was his own brand of powerful, in a state you’ve never seen him in before.

It was so fucking sexy.

“Daichi—” you cry, then moan loudly when Oikawa slaps your ass with all the force he has left in him. It’s a lot.

“You say  _ my _ name!” he growls, fucking you harder while his other hand reaches for your throat to squeeze. His hold isn’t tight enough to make you black out, but it’s hot enough to make you tighten again, the roughness clouding your head and getting you closer to coming. 

Daichi palms his cock over his pants, not breaking his stare for even a second.

It wasn’t a forced yes, if you want to be honest with yourself. Oikawa is a dangerous breed of sexy you shouldn’t have messed with in the first place but here you are now literally wrapped around his fingers. He’s an excellent businessman. A hard worker and a charmer with a wicked smile you want to slap off his face and kiss off at the same time. Before Daichi, you thought of him in your bed. Shameful nights alone had left your orgasms bitter but unregretful. Now, the fantasies are real. Oikawa fucking you like you were only made to be fucked, while your own boyfriend enjoys himself to his own personal porno.

“Too-ru,” you wheeze.

“That’s right. It’s  _ me _ who’s going to make you come.” His hand releases your neck and you barely have time to breathe deep enough to regain lost air because he’s rubbing your clit furiously, lighting up the last of your nerves that have yet to be reached.

Your orgasm comes shortly after, your body dropping on your messy desk as you tremble and shake the wood and metal beneath you. Oikawa doesn’t stop rubbing your clit or thrusting inside of you. Actually, he’s rougher now, thrusting as hard and as deep as he can. Your half-lidded gaze catches Daichi with his pants and underwear partially down. He strokes his cock earnestly, his chest heaving as he grunts and jerks his hips up.

“Ohh, you have such a nice cock,” Oikawa snarls over your ear, his bare skin pressed up against yours to get a better view. “Shit, if you could fuck me while I fuck— _ ohh~!” _

Oikawa stops to slam hard and come inside you. The desk slides an inch from such strength, each pulse of his release so thick and hot your thighs will be absolutely coated once he pulls out.

“Come for me,” Oikawa hisses once he can. “Come for me, Handsome.”

It’s the only time Daichi looks away from you. At that point, though, he bursts and falls to pieces with his orgasm, too. He lifts his sweater on time to spill onto his abs, the sticky white dripping down those dips and curves when he strokes quickly and milks every little stripe that shoots out of him. You could cry at such beauty. Daichi breathes hard and reverts his gaze back to you after having his eyes rolled back and shut to let go and come.

Oikawa slowly pulls out of you and as expected, the mix of your orgasms leak out like a gross faucet. You hear the sound of tissues being pulled from its box, but the softness doesn’t land on your skin seconds later. Typical.

You grab the tissues yourself once your breathing catches up with the rest of your body, standing up straight to wipe the mess between your thighs. Once your clothes are back in place and you aren’t exposed to Oikawa, you toss the box of tissues to Daichi, to which he responds with a soft thanks.

Oikawa smooths down his clothes and sighs happily, walking to one end of the office with his hands on his hips like he just casually finished some paperwork. “Ahh. That was nice, wasn’t it?”

You scowl at him. Daichi says nothing when he throws away the tissues and puts the box back on your desk. His hand finds yours to hold briefly and your chest heats up, as if your body just remembered that he’s the only one who can make you feel good all the time.

“You got what you wanted,” Daichi says, unwavering. “Give us Tobio and Shouyou.”

“Hmm.” Oikawa folds one arm across his chest and bends his other to tap his chin, thinking about the demand like it’s a mere suggestion. “About that.”

Oikawa doesn’t finish his thought when there are gunshots outside the office. Several rounds of bullets are fired so quickly that you flinch. 

“Get down!” you shout to Daichi as you follow your own action.

A slew of gunshots goes through the window, shattering the glass and grazing Oikawa’s arm. He doesn’t fall as tactfully as you do, but in that time, you’re able to rip the small, taped gun away from the underside of your desk chair and cock it while you’re on the ground.

There’s no need for that, though. In seconds, the gunfire ceases. The sound is replaced with Ushijima kicking the office door open and pointing the gun directly at Oikawa’s head rolling on the floor. You stand up, too, stepping towards him with all the hatred shooting back into your blood.

“Ushiwaka~” Oikawa grins as he sits up, gripping his arm beginning to pool around his hand with blood. “It’s such a nice—”

Three gunshots to the head. It happens in a matter of seconds. No explanations, no time for any sort of mercy to be given. You look up at Ushijima, shocked and speechless. You shouldn’t be, though. This was a long time coming.

He looks back at you, his eyes cold and his mouth in a hard, flat line.

“We need to talk.”

 

It’s late. The sun will likely be coming up in an hour or so, but here you are, still in the same clothes you had to take off for Oikawa. The conference room is empty, save for you and Daichi and a pot of tea. Shouyou and Tobio are fast asleep in Koushi’s office, miraculously unhurt although shaken from the entire sequence of events that occurred tonight.

You and Daichi are dead silent. You have no energy or desire to have a cup of tea. Not when you’ve had to fuck your enemy for your kid in front of your boyfriend. And you enjoyed it.

That little twisted part in you enjoys it more now that you know he’s dead.

Daichi doesn’t look any better. Some of the color has left his face and you know damn well that he’s seen way too much in one night. Why he hasn’t tried to kill you, hasn’t tried to escape with Tobio, you don’t know. Shock, you think. It’s a more plausible thought than love.

The sliding door slams to the side when Wakatoshi and his father enter the room. Their footsteps pound along with your heart when they sit across from you and Daichi. His father pours himself a cup of tea as if he’d just woken up for his morning routine. While Wakatoshi looks ready to shoot you and Daichi in the head, his father is at peace. Eyes focused on the tea, steady fingers. His calmness is meant to be unnerving and he knows that you know.

“There have been many people throughout the years who have tried to maintain a personal life along with working in this business,” he begins before taking a slow sip. “You’re probably most familiar with the Hinata couple.”

He’s expecting an answer. You straighten up and nod. “Yes, sir. The two were dealers.”

“That’s right. Young and in love and wanted to make money faster so they could raise their son properly.” Another sip. Wakatoshi’s eyes bore into you and Daichi as his father keeps at it, “At the time, I didn’t think it was a risk. In fact, I thought it was quite beautiful.”

You swallow hard. “Sir, if I may speak.”

“You may.”

Your fingers curl in your lap and your voice falters upon the first few words. “I owe my life to your business. Ever since Wakatoshi and Koushi found me and Shouyou in that alley, I’ve dedicated myself to being this business’s best asset. I know…I know I’ve made mistakes. Mistakes that have cost the company several men and an entire warehouse.”

He stops you right there with a hand up. Drinking his tea, his eyes close in thought, as if you  _ didn’t _ make all those mistakes tonight. “Wakatoshi told me these details, already. You were willing to give up your branch to save the children and gave your body to a man you don’t love.”

“Yes sir,” you say without fault. “I love Shouyou. And I love Tobio, too. I was willing to do anything to get them back.”

He makes a noncommittal noise as he sets his tea down. You do your best to stay still and not tremble like a leaf. Daichi purses his lips like he’s ready to speak out of turn. You’re ready to reach for his hand to make sure he doesn’t say anything, but like always, Wakatoshi is one step ahead of you.

“Do you have something to say, Sawamura?” he asks.

A pause, then a nod. “Yes, sir. I just wanted to say that she was brave to put everything on the line for my son. I don’t know how your business works and I don’t want to know. But whatever you plan to do with us, please. Consider our children.”

After Daichi speaks, you’re able to breathe again when it looks as if Wakatoshi’s father is  _ actually _ considering the kids. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead right about now. You and Daichi, and even the kids. It’s not a savory thought to have in your head, which makes this all the more stressful. It’s multiplied when Wakatoshi’s father pours himself another cup of tea in silence. Wakatoshi simply looks on at the two of you, with no other contribution to this meeting other than to make sure the two of you won’t run away.

“When is Shouyou’s birthday?” his father asks you.

You try not to raise an eyebrow when you answer, “June 21st.”

“And when is Tobio’s birthday?” he asks Daichi.

Daichi attempts to do the same. “December 22nd, sir.”

“And they are both the same age?”

You both nod.

“Hmm.” One sip, then he rests the cup on the table with a faint noise where the ceramic hits the wood. He inhales sharply and looks up at the two of you, then just you. He says your full name and goes on, “As punishment for exposing our operations to civilians and threatening our business directly with your interactions with a rival, you will die three days after Tobio’s twenty-first birthday.”

That’s it. You knew you were going to have to pay for this with your life. There was no other way around it. However…

“Father,” Wakatoshi interrupts, “why do we have to wait so long? She’s already done the damage and now we have to—”

“This decision is final,” he says firmly. “Our young boss here has given her life to help raise her adoptive son on top of expanding our business to different cities, including our international locations. In return for her service, she will get to watch her son and her son’s friend grow up.”

“But what about—”

“Not another word, Wakatoshi.” He clears his throat and pays attention to you and Daichi again. “You will be provided a sufficient amount of money for your children every year. You will not speak of our operations nor will you meddle with it in any shape or form. Failure to comply will result in your immediate death. This condition will apply to both of you. Do you understand?”

The shock runs through you and doesn’t stop. “Yes, sir.”

Daichi chokes up and nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You two will sleep here tonight. We will prepare a more formal contract tomorrow and discuss other terms. Good night.”

Wakatoshi delays in standing up with his father, acknowledging them both with a nod before following close behind and leaving them with a now-cooled pot of tea. Now that you two are alone in the room, you exhale and drop your hands to your face, crying softly.

You don’t know what to feel. You thought for sure you were going to die tonight. Even after everything you’ve been through, the Ushijima family has still shown you mercy. The least you can do, then, for the next fifteen years, is not think about the guilt and shame you brought upon this business and what you could have done growing up so you didn’t have to put yourself in this situation.

In that timeline, however, you probably would have never met Daichi or Tobio or be able to raise Shouyou as your own.

You’re ready to stand and leave to look for the kids and take them to bed, but Daichi places a hand on your shoulder. He sits closer to you, knees touching, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You know you smell of sweat and gunpowder but he nonetheless attempts to rub the emotions out of you in slow, gentle strokes.

He’s seen everything. Everything you do, what you’re involved in, who you really are when you aren’t tossing a volleyball to the boys or making dinner or taking a nap on the couch. Yet here he is, still here and still supporting you.

“Why?” you whisper when you drag your face out of your hands. “Why are you still here?”

You blink through your tears to find Daichi looking as strong as ever, his gaze tired but genuine.

“I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

And that’s all it takes.

 

There’s a splatter of blood on the collar of your blouse as you drive quickly down the streets of Sendai. Things got a little complicated at work and your task at hand took longer than expected. You feel bad; this is your son’s first ever sports festival, and you told him very clearly the night before that you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

You always keep your promises.

In record time, you make it to his elementary school, finding the first open parking space and sprinting to the schoolyard where there is a crowd of other parents cheering for their children on bleachers. You try not to catch too much attention as you march your way up to a comfortable spot. The sound of your heels slamming onto metal plus your heavy breathing doesn’t help.

You don’t notice the gentleman next to you when you plop down and heave a breath. You’re slightly ashamed that you’re able to do the job you do but you can’t find the time to take your heels off and run barefoot to a grassy field. That aside, you blink a few times and look up to find your pride and joy. He’s not hard to spot—bright orange hair with a wide smile and a leap that shocks you to this day. Granted, he’s only six, but you can definitely see him playing some sort of sport once he gets to middle school and high school. The elementary school sports festival is a start.

Luckily, you’re just in time to watch the first grade volleyball tournament. Except their volleyball looks like a foam dodgeball so nobody gets seriously hurt. Not that you expect killer spikes and jump serves from little kids. You spot your son within two seconds, a white headband with his class number wrapped around his head. Shamelessly, you clap your hands and cheer loudly for him.

“Woohoo! Let’s go, Shouyou! Do your best!”

Shouyou recognizes your voice right away and smiles wide, waving at you and bouncing like he always does when he’s excited. Unfortunately, he doesn’t notice the ball coming to his team’s side of the makeshift court, and you pause your cheering abruptly when he’s knocked in the head. Thankfully, he’s okay, but your eyes narrow at the kid yelling at him, probably saying something along the lines of paying attention. You’re ready to shout something else when the man next to you takes his turn to make his voice heard.

“Tobio! Play nicely!”

You turn your head and look up to a very handsome fellow, a dark sweep of hair framing a serious-but-sweet-looking face. If it weren’t for his kid trying to scold your baby on the court, you’d try and talk to him.

Too late, though. He’s the first to talk to you.

Sitting back down, he shakes his head and glances over at you. “I’m sorry about that. Tobio can get bossy sometimes.”

The game starts and you can hear the sound of kids getting excited over a tossed ball. You shrug. “It’s fine,” you say coolly, then impulsively add, “I just hope he doesn’t get it from his dad.”

His laugh is cute, too. That smile he sends your way makes your heart beat like nothing else before; it’s been a  _ really _ long time since you’ve interacted with someone...normal. Hopefully he’s normal. You’re going to assume that for the better.

“I try to tell him to be nicer around his classmates,” he says. “He’s still getting the hang of it. Hasn’t really been the same since his mom passed.”

Yikes. Death is a normal occasion with your job, though it’s still rough to hear someone talk about it outside of underground activities. You’re sure this man is hiding some hurt behind his eyes. Pretty as they are, you can tell there’s a lot more going on.

He laughs again, this time nervously, as he grips the back of his neck and turns away to watch the game. “Sorry, again. I haven’t even introduced myself properly and I’m already telling you personal things.”

So maybe he is kinda cute. You laugh with him and watch Shouyou slap the ball to the other side, giving his team another point. You yell out a “yes!” and clap loudly before sending some attention back at the man, starting off by telling him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, then holds out his hand. “I’m Sawamura Daichi.”

His handshake is firm when you reach for it, a sign that he’s certainly got some brawn along with charm. He’s also pretty observant, based on how his eyes avert to your soiled shirt and gestures to it.

“Are you alright? Did something happen on the way here?”

You glance down and you sigh. It was a bad decision to wear white today, though you can make the excuse that you were in a rush to get your son to school early enough so that you can take care of business. Nobody said having a kid was easy.

“I’m fine,” you answer with a warm smile. “Just some nasty stuff at work.”

This is how it begins.

**Author's Note:**

>  _deep breaths_ I did it~  
>  Time to sleep for a year lmao
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and happier endings are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
> [Tumblr ](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter</](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


End file.
